A Dragon's Bedtime Stories
by sarsaparillia
Summary: Every life has a story. Mine just happens to be stranger then most. — Itachi/Hana.
1. Ribbon

**Disclaimer:** Neither the prompts, nor the characters, belong to me.**  
Dedication:** To my beloved Dragon Jadefire. She's the bestest!  
**notes**: editing, editing...

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Every life is like a story. Mine just happens to be stranger then most.

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A ribbon. That's all that is left.

It is red, the colour of blood and anger and love and fire and ice-cold Sharingan on a snowy day. And when I see it, I stop, and I take the time to remember him. He was… my very best friend during my childhood. Of course he was; we were on the same Genin team, and we were rarely apart.

I met in him a field of flowers, poppies, as red as the satin ribbon that I now stare at. I was five, and it was spring, just after rain storm.

And I was _not_ happy to meet this strange, dark-haired boy with lines on his face. I didn't know him, nor did I _want_ to know him.

After all, he was everything I was not. He was clean and neat and dark, his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, and he just watched me play in the mud, my hair loose and wild, with dirt smudges across my face, something distinctly disapproving in his six-year-old gaze.

I remember laughing at him, and then throwing some wet, sticky muck at him. It was the first, and the only, time I ever would manage to pull one on him.

He had glared at me, walked straight over to where I was sitting, sat down next to me, and then, to my great, innocent surprise, picked up some mud, and smeared it in my hair. I screeched, of course. It didn't bother me, but he winced, and I got a childish sense of pride as he did.

"Sorry," he whispered, and tried to help me get the mud out of my wild brown pigtails. I just pushed him into the mud, laughed, and ran away from that field of red poppies, hoping that I'd have to see him again, sometime.

But that was only the beginning.

…–…

The next time I saw him, I was eight, and it was a funeral. I don't remember whose; I was too busy trying to keep my younger brother quiet. He was three, and he didn't understand that at a funeral, one stays _quiet_.

And it was raining, that day. It was so hot and humid and it was raining, and my little brother just wouldn't stay quiet. The air felt sticky, and the umbrella I was holding felt heavy. My ten-year-old mind was annoyed.

The boy from my five-year-old memory walked back into my life, hair tied back, black clothes, and all. He was holding an umbrella the colour of the night over his head, to stop the thick droplets from mussing his appearance.

I blinked at him. I _thought_ I knew him, I just couldn't place him. While I squinted at him, trying to figure out where I knew him from, he was looking down at my little brother.

And my little brother went quiet.

I remember looking at them both, back and forth, very quickly. My younger brother, even when he was that young, had never been one to shut up when he was told to shut up.

"Uh, thanks," I said, unsure of how to react to this very dark person. He just stared at me, his black eyes unfathomable, and then he walked away.

I shook my head, tucked a stray hair back into place, and got a firmer grip on my younger brother's hand, and pulled him a little closer to me. My mother wouldn't be too pleased if he got wet.

I tilted my head back, and the umbrella too, just enough to see the sky. The clouds were thick and grey, and they looked as weighed down by the thickness of the air as I felt.

I sighed, and closed my eyes.

…–…

The third time I saw him, I was eating dango under a tree with green leaves, the day before we were placed on our Genin teams. I was nine.

He came and sat down next to me, and I silently offered him a stick of dango. I had plenty, and I'd always loved to share.

And this time, I knew who he was. He was Uchiha Itachi, the prodigy that everyone was always raving about. He was also the one every single girl in my class was in love with. Whatever, I thought.

He just looked like an ordinary kid, to me. More then that, he looked like an ordinary, withdrawn no-friends-to-lean-on, really _lonely_ kid. And so I offered him my dango, and I offered him a smile.

He took it out of my hand, his fingers long and grown-up, but the look on his face was one of childish wonder.

We sat there together for a long time, never saying a word.

And then he took this red satin ribbon out of his hair, and handed it to me. It was the first time I'd ever seen him with his hair down. He got up, nodded to me once, and then he started to walk away.

I decided that I kind of liked his hair down. As he walked away, I tucked the ribbon into my pocket, and zipped it up tight. Something in my chest told me not to lose it.

…–…

And now I stand here, and I stare down at this old, insignificant piece of ribbon.

Part of me, the larger part, in fact, is screaming and howling at me to throw it away, and to forget that he ever existed.

But the small, innocent part of my heart that still considers him the greatest gift I was ever given, it rebels against the thought of losing this small memory. I stare at it for another moment, before I tuck it back into my pocket, and for one, single second, I feel like a nine-year-old, again.

I blink, and I suddenly feel like eating some dango again. If only for old time's sake.

So I do.

…–…

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_fin_.


	2. Obsession

ARGH. I FAIL AT WRITING ITACHI!**  
Disclaimer**: Not mine.**  
Dedication:** To Erika. You make me smile. ^_^

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Obsessions.

They are curious things, are they not?

I suppose I have never been particularly obsessed with one certain thing. But I have been obsessed with one single _person_. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. She was not broken, not tamed, not _mine_.

Her name was Hana.

We were on the same Genin team, when we were young. She and I didn't particularly get along well, not at the start, but even then, I was fascinated by her.

After all, she didn't follow me around like a love-sick puppy, the way the girls in my class had a tendency to. I shuddered at the memory. Fan-girls.

It took me a while, but I did eventually get past that barrier she kept up, to keep people out, to keep herself from getting hurt. I don't blame her for it, but it made me all the more obsessed with her.

Of course, at the time, I didn't know it was an obsession.

I just watched her, whenever I could. I watched her on missions, and even during practice. But especially during missions.

I did not want her to die.

I'm sure she felt it, when I watched her. Cursed Sharingan have a way of making people feel uneasy, and I am sure this was the case for Hana. She sometimes would shiver, and I'd watch her hair swing back and forth across her back, glinting auburn in the sunlight.

Because she belonged to a sunlit world, where laughter was liquid gold and a smile was the currency. She belonged to a world with a purple sky and waist-high blue grass and yellow and pink flowers. She belonged to a dream.

I did not belong to that world, and as much as I wished I could, I know that it would never be the case.

I was envious of her, much of the time. I wanted her easy smile and even easier laugh. They were mine, of course, on some level, just like how all girls' smiles and laughs belonged to me.

But then, Hana had an independent side that seemed to act up whenever I said the slightest thing. She was very unique.

And her independence seemed to manifest itself as violence.

The first time we ever sparred together was the last time I accidentally caused her pain. Every time I hurt her afterwards was intentional - I never harmed her in training, and I never let her get hurt during a mission, not if I could help it.

She tended to beat me into the ground whenever I got in her way. Whenever I stopped her from getting killed, although she was never to know it.

This happened many times. She would call me weasel, knock me over (or at least she would try), and then she'd go off in a huff.

She always went to the same place, a valley right outside Konoha, where the river bent, and she knew no one would find her, because it was downwind, and no one in her family would catch her scent. It was always her worst fear that one of her siblings would find her crying. No one could ever find her.

No one except me, of course.

I knew Hana's chakra signature like the back of my hand, and I could track it anywhere. I would go and sit next to her.

She would punch me, and it would hurt, and I would wince, and then I would hand her some dango and some chocolate (both were courtesy of Anko's influence upon her), and she would eat some of each.

And then she would feel guilty, and give me a stick of dango, and the whole problem would be forgiven in the first place. She would roughly rub away the tear tracks on her face, the always-present grime streaked with it.

But I never once saw her cry.

I knew she must have; the tear tracks were proof of the tears. I never connected that fact, though, until a long time later.

And even then, when she was the only person I would seek out, rarely, so rarely, I didn't realize that I was obsessed with her. I wouldn't realize it until months later, and I was standing in the Third's office, being told that I was going to have to kill every member of my own family.

I still hate that Danzo bastard. But I know that it was for the best, and I carefully stand on the branch outside Hana's window.

It is years later, and I am barely out of childhood. I have been away from this village, this place that was my home, for a very, very long time.

My younger brother, at fourteen, is naïve. He is, apparently, staying with that Orochimaru snake. I should have known he would have betrayed them. He did not know the entire story.

I intend for it to _stay_ that way.

But as I stare into Hana's room, at her sleeping figure, the moon light flickering over her, back and forth, I wonder if it was really worth it. Perhaps if things had been different… no.

Nothing would have changed.

I turned my back on the only person I have ever been obsessed, turned my back on the silver-in-the-moonlight marks on her face, and I disappear into the night.

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_fin_.


	3. Tattoo

I hate life. Argh. And are these getting shorter and shorter, or is it just me?**  
Disclaimer:** Not mine.**  
Dedication:** To Erika, as always. Love you darling.

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I am looking out the window, towards the sunrise. It is early, but there is a linger of familiar chakra - it's one I never thought I'd feel again. Itachi, I think, but I don't really want to verify it.

If he's near here, I don't want to see him.

My eyes drift down to the red ribbon tied around my wrist, hiding the only other evidence that I ever knew him.

It is a tattoo.

Every ANBU will, at some point, get the tattoo. Itachi has it, I have it… every single ANBU will get one. It is a simple thing, black, and merely a straightened-out swirl.

Most get it on their shoulder, to show the fact that they are, in fact, ANBU. It is a prestigious thing, to be part of ANBU, and many wish to show that fact off. I have it there, too.

But this tattoo, small and nothing like the ANBU tattoo, is different. It is _special_. It has _meaning_ behind it. And it aches in my chest when I have to see it, because of the meaning that goes along with it.

It is, perhaps, Itachi's greatest revenge. It is something that will never be removed from my body, something that will forever remind me that I do not entirely belong to myself.

It is not even pretty. It is an intricate little pitchfork, made of the curving lines of the first letting of his last name superimposed over the first letter of _my_ last name. We designed it together, when we were small.

And then one day, I told him I wanted to keep it forever. And so the two of us, in entire secrecy (now I think our mothers may have been privy to it; mothers like Itachi's and mine never miss a thing), we went to the ANBU tattoo artist.

He smiled sadly at us, like he that something very bad would happen, but he did it anyways. He didn't even make us pay him.

He said that it was so small, and so little ink, that it would hardly be profitable for him to charge is.

And then we were happy, and I cheered in a field of daisies, the same field where we first met, and he actually _smiled_ for once.

And then we learned we'd have to grow up.

He was soon promoted to ANBU, jumping past Chuunin and Jonin, and entering straight into the elite of the elite. And I saw him less and less.

Now I look out the window into the night, and I wonder if he is wondering about me. He and I shared a lot of firsts, but we never got a last. We never got to say goodbye.

I blink when I feel the familiar chakra again, thick now, stronger now. It is right outside my window, and part of me cringes.

The other part is rejoicing, and planning on ways to beat him into the ground.

I hope beyond hope that it is not the person who I think it is. But it is a pointless hope, because a rock comes sailing through the glass, shattering it. The tinkling of thousands of shards of glass against each other makes me want to scream.

But I do not scream..

Instead, I throw open the remains of the shatter-glass window, and I look down. I pay no heed to the sharp shards against my skin, for I am frozen.

It is a bright night, a full moon shining happily down on everything, and I wonder. It floods the clearing in front of home with silver light, and I see him.

He is standing on the ground, looking up at me, a bitter smirk on his lips. His hands are in his pockets, and his posture is exactly as I remember it, if only a little more worldly. It is like he knows how much seeing him is paining me.

And I hate the fact that he does know.

"Is _this_ what you wanted, Uchiha?" I ask, anger tainting the my voice.

"No," he says, and for one single second, I wish I could hate him. I wish and wish on every star in the sky, every rainbow, every absent falling raindrop, that he would just _die_. The sound of his voice brings back too many painful memories.

And I understand how the little Haruno girl must feel. If this is what loving an Uchiha is like, it is a wonder they managed to procreate in the first place.

"So what _do_ you want, then?"

He simply looks at me, eyes empty and black and exactly as I remember them. "Something. Nothing. A smile, perhaps?"

I look at him, incredulous. He wants a _smile_? From _me_?

"Why a smile?" I ask, because I am curious. My curiosity makes my self-loathing grown exponentially. How dare he ask this of me? How dare he make me hate myself so, with so few words?

"Because you always smile at me."

I do not like the fact that he speaks in present-tense about me smiling at him. I glare down at him, but I slowly, so slowly, let a bitter smile cross my lips.

It is sad, and angry, and broken, and tired, but most of all, it is hopeless. Because I know that this is a dream that my mind concocted to tease me. He stares at my bitter, bitter smile for a second, and then he vanishes into the night as if he had never been there in the first place.

I close the still-shattered window, and I sit down on my bed. A shaft of silver moonlight flits across my wrist, and the tattoo is illuminated.

And I know, right then, that Uchiha Itachi is the only human who will ever, past or future, have a hold on my heart.

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_fin_.


	4. Birthday

Also, as I fail at writing Itachi, I'm writing from Hana's POV, yet again. And this is so short… I fail. I apologize.**  
Disclaimer:** Why do we always have to put these? Seriously, if I owned Naruto, I would _not_ be here.**  
Dedication**: To Erika. Happy birthday sweetie!

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It is my birthday today. I am fifteen. I feel old. That is the best way to describe it. I feel _ancient_. The dogs -my companions since my own birth- wag their tails sadly at me. They know my feelings better then I know my own, and perhaps that is the way it should remain.

It has only been three years since the only person I think I will probably ever care about disappeared. He is gone, and nothing will ever be the same again. I love him, and sometimes it hurts.

Loving Itachi is like falling, I think. The gravity of the situation doesn't hit one until one has hit the ground, and is now nothing more then a bloody splat on the ground.

That is how I feel. Like a bloody splat on the ground.

The dogs sense my feelings and thoughts, and they wrinkle their noses. They do not like the thought of me falling.

But I did fall. I fell long and hard, and I have yet to hit the ground. I think that maybe someone (maybe he, himself) dropped me a parachute as I fell; only he dropped it a second too late. It was not out of kindness that he dropped it, either.

I think that perhaps he dropped it because he knew it would hurt me more. Itachi was never cruel, but this - this is cruel.

I stare at the present sitting on my bedside. It is wrapped in lavender purple - my favorite colour, incidentally-, and it is tied with a black velvet ribbon. There is a card, in the shape of a fan, stuck to it.

My heart clenches. For a mere second, I see a small, patient smile and warm, bottomless black eyes. But then the illusion fades, and I am left staring at the small, harmless present.

My fingers shake as I reach for it. Every bad emotion courses through me as my shaking fingers pluck the velvet ribbon open. Rage, terror, and greed all dance underneath my skin, but mostly anger.

Itachi is not supposed to be cruel. But this is cruel, my mind whispers. This is so, so cruel. How could he do this?

I finish unwrapping the present, and I blink, once, twice, and then a third time.

The present itself is nothing special; a little charm bracelet, with only one charm attached. It is the Uchiha symbol, and I hate myself momentarily as I wish to clasp it around my wrist.

But I do not.

What is special is the note attached. It is written in his script, elegant and so dark against the thick paper. They are only three words, but my traitor heart soars as I read them.

"_**Happy birthday, Hana**_**"**

Later, I tuck the bracelet away in my jewel case, and I burn the note. I have no wish to be found with something as incriminating as _that_. But I know that the words will always be in my mind.

I do not know where he was when he was writing that, but something tells me he may have been sitting in a field of flowers, wondering where I was right when he was writing it.

…–…

It is not until years later that I am able to take the bracelet out, and wear it. It is not until years later that I knew what he meant by it.

Itachi is not cruel. He has never been cruel.

But we will never have our happy ending.

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_fin_.


	5. Modern Day Fairytale

INSPIRATION. I've decided on a different POV, and a different time setting. A what-if kind of world.**  
Disclaimer**: Not mine.**  
Dedication**: To Erika, 'coz she's going insane without her doses of ItaHana.

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The steady drip-drip-drip of rain taints the air fresher then normal. There is a girl sitting at a bus stop with an umbrella, a long brown plait hanging down her back, with a dark brown fitted coat on, and sad, tired eyes.

She draws a deep breath of the no-longer-stagnant (it tastes like tears, she thinks) atmosphere into her lungs, and she stares at the rainy-coloured sky.

It is grey.

Everything is grey, recently, she thinks with a sigh, and she closes her eyes. Everything is grey, because she is bored, and she feels like she's been in the tiny town where she'd been born forever.

It makes her feel strangely ill.

Or, rather, perhaps not ill; perhaps it is just restlessness.

But still, Hana wants to _move_. She wants to run and hide and dance and laugh, and sometimes she catches herself wishing for a prince to come and sweep her off her feet, and take her away from that tiny town.

But of course, he never does.

Hana does not believe in fairytales. She stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago, after her father had gone to buy a pack of cigarettes, and never came back. He had disappeared, just like her oldest brother had always said he would.

Her youngest brother didn't understand, and had clung to her for so very long. And her mother… her mother had stopped caring the second her father had gone.

Hana had learned to take care of her family, because it was really the only thing that she could have done, considering the circumstances.

And now, at seventeen, she sits at this bus stop, waiting for the bus to take her to Kiba's school (because he's gotten into another fight _again_… He does it so often, recently; it's such a _nightmare_), and she lets her mind drift. She does not concentrate, or even realize where she was, really.

She just lets herself daydream while the rained pours softly around her.

She thinks of ghost of Christmas past, of a storm of bullets raining down around her, of sugar-frosted glass, and of a gypsy wagon she saw once, colourful and bright and everything she wants to be. Her thoughts have no relation to each other, but, well, she thinks with a wry smile, they are her, and she is them.

And there is nothing that can really change that.

While she sits, another person joins her on the bench. He is dark, wearing red and black, and she is reminded of the gypsy caravan she saw last summer. He says nothing, and she is struck by the casual grace he carries himself with. She supposes that it takes practice to carry oneself with such an unconscious grace.

She suddenly hates the fact that she's staring, because he has turned, and he is staring at her. Hana feels her face go red as a poppy, and she manages to look away.

He is beautiful, she thinks. There is nothing handsome about him - he is _beautiful_. She is struck by a sudden wish to do something, do _anything_. She is so _bored_, and he is _beautiful_, and she really wants to know his name.

"Uh… Hi," she manages. It is a gamble, but one she is willing to make, and when he whips his head up, she mentally cheers. His gaze -empty and dark and _beautiful_- catches hers, and she is momentarily stunned.

"Hello," he says, and the sound of his voice makes her shiver. It is a good shiver, she thinks. His voice is low and deep and soft, and it raises goose bumps on her arms. And for a half-second, Hana thinks that she's found her prince.

Then she remembers that she doesn't believe in fairytales, so she turns her attention to the matter at hand.

But, no matter how hard she searches her brain, she cannot think of what else to say. So, for a second or so, they simply stare at each other. He reminds her of whispers of smoke, children songs lost to the magic of time, and the broken-empty darkness of night.

She does not know how to approach him. She thinks she has seen him before; perhaps at school. But then… maybe not. She is unsure, and so, instead, she simply smiles slowly at him.

He smiles back, too.

Her heart stops for a second at the beauty of the smile, and the whole world freezes. And then her bus pulls up, and she is torn.

She wants to stay, to know this stranger-gypsy's name.

But she has to bail Kiba out. And Kiba is her brother. She has to protect him. So she gathers up her bag, smiles apologetically at the beautiful stranger-gypsy, and boards the bus.

He follows her.

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_fin_.


	6. Modern Day Wishes

Okay. Seriously. I'm starting to see why Erika loves this couple so much… Another scene from the 'what-if' world. God, why can't I write anything happy? Poor Kiba got left all alone…**  
Disclaimer**: Not mine.**  
Dedication**: To Erika, 'coz she's awesome.

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It is dusk outside. The sky is purple and red and golden and hazy, and Hana thinks it is beautiful. The clouds make swirls out of the sky, and even though it is still cold (her worn, brown pea coat cuts the wind, but she can feel it on her cheeks), it is nice.

Tranquil.

Calm, for once, in a life when complexities rule all, and there is so little that is constant. Hana understands that complexities are a part of life, but…

But she wishes. She may not believe in fairytales, but she does wish. And she wishes that maybe, just _maybe_, life would not be so complicated.

Of course, no matter how much she wishes, it never really changes anything… And she's so tired.

She is tried of waking up (it takes courage that she doesn't have), and she is tired of playing mind games with someone who isn't there. But then, she supposes, he's not really playing mind games at all.

She just likes to over-think things.

He's going off to be a doctor, he told her once. She believes him because he's never lied, and because when he put his mind to something, he would do it. And there are no limits to the things he would do to achieve his dreams.

She misses him, but she knows why she can't go with him. She has Kiba. She has to protect Kiba.

Kiba is trailing after some girl named Ino, apparently. Hana has seen them together, and she knows that the girl is apparently as smitten with him as he is with her, but she simply hides it better.

Hana thinks that it is Itachi and her, only reversed, with a few less twisted undertones. Kiba is not possessive the way Itachi is, and Hana does not know how to play coy the way Ino does.

But it doesn't matter, Hana thinks. Because it is the same story, over and over and over again. One where a boy who's desperate to escape meets a girl who doesn't know where she fits, and they fall in love.

But it's supposed to last forever.

She and Itachi didn't last forever.

They should have, Hana thinks. They should have lasted forever and forever, because she was the angel and he was the demon, and they were _supposed_ to stay together. They evened each other out, with her light and his darkness.

It _should have worked_.

But Hana stopped wishing for things (like him coming back) a long time ago. She knows it is impossible. And wishes never changed anything, anyways.

Itachi has a gypsy's soul, one that needs to travel. He has never been content to stay in this dreary town. For that matter, _Hana_ is not content to stay in this dreary town.

But Kiba is here. And in Hana's world, the only thing that really matters is that blood is thicker then water, and that she must stay near him, to protect him. Kiba is prone to trouble, yes, so much trouble, and Hana knows that one day he will end up in a scrap that she cannot save him from.

But until then, she knows she must protect him.

The scent of the sea is in the air. Hana is confused, because the sea is so very far away, and she doesn't think that the wind would manage to carry a scent so far. She looks out at the dying day again, and is surprised to see a black blur, off in the distance.

It gets larger, and takes on the shape of a person on a motorcycle, and suddenly, Hana is afraid. It moves fast, and Hana is afraid.

She knows that shape, and god, she _loves_ that shape, because that shape is Itachi. But she is afraid for her heart, because she knows that if he asks for it again, she will give it to him, no questions asked.

He raises dust as he screeches to a stop in front of her.

He looks the same, she thinks. He still has those empty-grumpy eyes, and that floppy ink-coloured hair, and the dark red-and-black clothes…

But he is different, too. His eyes aren't as grumpy. They seem to laugh, and Hana thinks of fangs touched with venom in the dark and of late nights in Italy lit by a trillion and one lights.

He almost smiles at her.

"Hana," he says, and god, Hana hates herself because she _still loves him_. And she's going to give herself away, just like she always does, and they both know it.

"Itachi," she says in reply, and she wonders what he thinks of her. But her head whispers _'keep it simple babe, or he just might catch you. We've been running for so very long…'_

"I miss you," he says simply, and Hana knows she is lost.

"I miss you, too."

He doesn't ask, after that. He pulls her up on the motorcycle behind him, and he guns the engine. Hana has time to think that her fairy-tale prince has come to whisk her away, but that he's not really a prince, and since she's definitely not a princess, it works.

They are gone together, and it is dusk outside.

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_fin_.


	7. Nail Polish

Hmmm… I think I like the ending  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.**  
Dedication**: To my sexy-ass red nail-polish.

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Hana loves nail polish. It is the one thing she has always indulged over; her vanity is lined with bottles and bottles of nail-polish, in every colour of every rainbow.

There is one that is the deep blue of the sky at midnight, and one as crimson-red as blood. There is one the colour of clouds lit by a sunrise. There is lemon yellow, and neon green, and bright orange, and a pink-purple that she secretly adores. There is one that is the slate-grey that makes Hana think of tears, and a deep purple that reminds her of dusk. There is a teal the colour of the ocean, and there is bronze, shiny and fresh. There is leaf green, bright blue, pale orange, pastel pink, bright white. There is sparkly pearl, and ink-black, and a _very_ special bottle that glows in the dark.

They are her secrets.

Or, rather, they _keep_ her secrets. And her memories, too, a lot of the time.

Because Hana rarely, almost never, wears a nail-colour twice.

She rarely wears colours twice because she thinks that if she does, she may ruin the memory attached to that particular colour.

For example, the midnight blue bottle was the one that Anko gave her for her twelfth birthday. She wore it only twice; once, right after she got it, and the second time, the day of her father's death.

It was then that Hana realized that she could never wear a single nail-colour more then once. Her birthday had been a wonderful day; a wonderful memory that she never wanted to forget. Her father's death, on the other hand… that was something she was willing to forget.

Hana's nail-polish was the keeper of memories she didn't want to forget. And sometimes they were the keepers of memories she _did_ want to forget, and those bottles were the ones she tucked away into little boxes, and hid under her bed.

She almost finds it ironic. It is mental repression in its most tangle form.

Her eyes trace her vanity, and the memories hit her, one by one.

The crimson-red, Hana thinks, was from a summer day spent by the pool with Akane and Kurenai and Anko. The four girls had been attacking each other in the water, and had simply been having a good time.

Hana had painted her nails that morning; they were as red as the flower that Itachi had tucked in her hair, behind her ear, that day at the pool. It is a special colour, with a good memory attached to it.

Hana smiles at it, and her eyes flick to the next colour. The one the colour of clouds lit by a sunrise. A light pink-yellow-white that, as a colour, she really does love. As a nail-polish? Not so much.

Her stomach knots, and she thinks she is masochistic to keep that one out. She was wearing that colour the last day she saw Itachi before he left. She tries not to think about that one too much.

The memories come faster now, and she's experience them for a second time.

Lemon yellow is a winter day, and she's laughing so hard she can't move. She throws a snowball, and it hits Itachi in the face. He is dumfounded. He never thought he'd actually end up with snow in his face.

Neon green brings a scent of rain, getting kisses at a bus stop, and loose hair.

Bright orange is Kiba and Naruto, grinning as they hold it up and out, for her to take. She turns eighteen today, and they got her a present. She almost blushes.

Pink-purple; she's sitting on a swing in early spring. Itachi is there, Kiba and Sasuke are squabbling, and all she can think is that he would be an amazing father.

Slate-grey, and she's lost amid grief as one of the puppies she'd been nursing dies. She couldn't save the poor little runt, and her heart clenches when she thinks of his big, pleading brown eyes. She paints her nails afterwards in mourning.

Deep purple is a touch of passion, and she's dancing in piles of fallen leaves in autumn. The sun is setting, and there is a scarf wrapped around her neck that cuts the winter's-coming breeze. For some reason, even through it's so cold, she's warm. It couldn't be Itachi's smile, could it?

Teal -the colour of the ocean- brings her mother's pained smile after Kiba's first near-death experience. He is only _twelve_, and Hana does not know how to deal with it.

Shiny bronze; she's fifteen, and she's just killed for the first time. She's so shocked, she can barely move. Kurenai grabs her hand, and pulls her away as fast as she can, screaming _Run, run, _run, _Hana_, _run!_

Leaf green, and she's blinking into bright sunlight after just coming out of the dark house. She's holding Kiba's seven-year-old hand. The white, childish dress she's wearing itches. _Stupid_ _wedding_, she thinks ungratefully.

Bright blue is an image of the sky, a single white bird flying overhead, and she is laughing at something Itachi said.

Pale orange, and she's doing chores. Washing clothes is boring, but at least she gets to be out in the sun, singing happily with her mother, as they dry.

Pastel pink; she's at the cherry blossom festival. She's wearing a pretty kimono, white base-pink flowers-gold detail, but the obi is too tight. How annoying.

Bright white was layered under black tips, and she knows Itachi will be annoyed, because he says black doesn't suit her.

Sparkly pearl; she's at Anko's wedding preparations, trying to calm the other girl down while she's hyperventilating in a gorgeous, simple wedding dress. Hana giggles as she thinks that Kakashi may very well keel over from Anko looking like this, and she is happy for her friends.

Ink-black, and Hana thinks _Itachi's eyes_.

The sparkly glow-in-the-dark clear-coat is her favourite, though. She is wearing it the day Uchiha Sasuke comes back into the village, dragging his older brother behind him. Little Sakura punches Little Sasuke so hard, he nearly falls over backwards. Hana takes care of Itachi, and she can still remember the look on his face when she slams her fist into his gut, and screeches _That's for not telling me, you _bastard_!_

Hana shakes herself, and pulls herself from the memories. They threaten to overwhelm her, but she pushes them away. She is older now, a different person.

But even so, nail polish is one thing she cannot live without. It can bring so many memories that she is not sure how she would remember anything without it.

…–…

The next day, she drags Itachi out to the market with her, and buys twelve new bottles. They shine brightly at her, and she wonders for a minute -just a minute- what each of these bottles will bring.

…–…

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_fin_.


	8. Masquerade

I am going to be sick. There are a bunch of hidden pairings; find them all, and you get a cookie and a dedication!  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Dedication**: To the amazing people I call friends. You guys… I love you.

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There will be a ball, tonight.

There are lots and lots of balls, Hana reflects, and sometimes they are very tiresome. Yes, very, very tiresome.

Hana thinks that being a noble is over-rated. In a country like Fire, in a city like Konoha, being noble is entirely over-rated. Her family is Inuzuka, her clan being one of the highest noble order. Hyuuga, Yamanaka, Haruno and Uchiha are important, too, of course, and Uzumaki is the current ruling house…

Hana sighs, and looks down at the shining ink-black layers-of-tulle-and-sparkles-and-diamonds dress that is sitting on her bed. She knows that she will be wearing it tonight, along with the opera elbow-length gloves and those _dreadful_ high heels.

Hana shudders. What a horrible, horrible excuse for a party. Just the prince's _engagement_ to that little Hyuuga girl -that friend of Kiba's-, after all…

There is only one redeeming feature about tonight, Hana thinks. And that is, very simply, the fact that it is a masquerade ball.

The devilish half-mask sitting on her pillow stares at her with empty eyes and a gaping, laughing mouth, and Hana shivers in delight.

She has always liked imps, and this is no exception.

…–…

The night is a swirl of energy, bubbling with champagne and laughter.

There are people in costume, just as is mandated, and no one can see anyone else's face. The castle is lit with a million, trillion candles, glimmering in the hidden nooks and crannies where secret lovers meet. The tables are crammed with food, the air thick with the million scents of life.

The dancing couples on the floor know nothing of whom their partner's are, but that is the point of this - the prince wanted a party exactly like the one where he met his fiancé, and since he's the _prince_, of course he gets what he wants.

Laughter, dancing, food, and the alcohol flows free. And really, if happiness has a taste, it would be the flavour left in the mouths of those standing in the glowing room.

Hana is left feeling sick to her stomach.

This is not where she wants to be tonight; she would so prefer to be out with the horses and the dogs, near the kennels. But ah, the imp does love to dance, and not even Hana is one to deny the imp what the imp loves.

And so Hana wears the mask. She remembers that when she tied it on, the razzle-dazzle silk ribbons caught in her fingers; snared them like flies in a spider's web. Such a strange thought, spider's webs, on a night meant only for fun. Such an _unpleasant_ thought.

But Hana does not want to think of such unpleasant things, not tonight. Not here. _Tonight is not the right time to be thinking of such things, Hana_, she scolds herself.

The orchestra sings through the air. No, not the right time at all.

Hana smoothes the front of her dress down, her fingers catching against one of the many diamonds sewn into the fabric to make it sparkle. _Yes,_ Hana thinks, _I am beautiful tonight_.

_And no one can see my face_. These thoughts cheer her immensely, and she turns her attention to the center of the room, the dance floor.

There are ball-gowns swirling, and men in tails, and Han feels sicker then before. She's starting to hate this whole thing - Hana is no princess, and this place feels like a prison. This _life_ feels like a prison, and Hana, no matter how much she wants to, cannot escape it.

So instead she dons a sardonic smile, and moves to the center of the floor. Hana will dance alone, because she finds that no one is worthy to dance with her.

Also, she knows no man in the room has the courage to approach the beautiful brunette in black, wearing the dangerous fire-coloured imp mask.

Or so Hana thinks, and she closes her eyes.

And then she is corrected, when she feels fingers linking through hers. She opens her eyes slowly, and her own sardonic smirk meets that of the darkly-coloured boy - no, man - in front of her.

He is wearing white; white and silver and an ink-dark blossom on his shirt that is a rose. Hana finds it amusing that they are wearing opposite colours; she, in her dress-the-colour-of-midnight, and he, in white and silver.

His mask is the farthest thing from an imp she has ever seen; he is wearing a simple Casanova mask; but, still, red in colour.

_I can not see his face_, Hana muses, and for the first time that night, she feels annoyed with the fact that the ball is, in fact, as masquerade. She can only see his eyes, and the flickering light in them quenches Hana's thirst to escape.

For now, anyways.

They spin around the room, elegant in a swirl of black and white. Hana feels hundreds of eyes on the back of her neck, where her hair is held up by glittering jeweled pins -obsidian and ruby and more, so many more, diamonds- and she wonders just who this man is.

He dips her back, and Hana's eyes momentarily find her younger brother's; Kiba's hair is so unruly, and Han silently tsk's. Kiba is standing with a girl with long blonde hair, and a smile that could only be Yamanaka in origin.

Hana almost smiles. If that girl is who Hana thinks she is, then Hana knows that there will be a marriage, and soon. She wonders if she'll be a bride's maid.

And then she is whipped up again, and pressed close to a broad chest.

Hana smiles, quiet, quiet, softly, softly, and she thinks that maybe she should push him away.

She doesn't. Instead, she whispers "Who are you?"

His voice is gentle, and Hana thinks she hears wind whispering through trees, but then the moment is gone. "Midnight," he says. "You'll know at midnight."

Hana has to wonder how he knows that they will still be dancing at midnight. And then she realizes that he is the only man in the room with enough balls to approach her.

And Hana almost laughs.

He spins her again, the imp mask laughing in the candle-light with delight at being so loved, and Hana catches sight of someone else with this man's hair colour, and Hana puzzles. _That hair_, she thinks, _where have I seen that hair_?

The answer is there, dangling out of reach, right in the front of Hana's mind. But she just can't reach it, so she stops trying, and the flash of pink and black twirls away from her vision. Just like everything else, this night.

…–…

The clock strikes eleven and Hana is not bored, surprisingly enough.

The man she is dancing with -because really, yes, they are still dancing- is intriguing, and Hana wonders if he is even noble at all.

He has an unexpectedly off-beat side that makes her smile. He speaks about running away in hushed whispers that thrill her, because, god, for so long she has just wanted to _run_…

But running is not an option when one is the current heir.

Hana's thoughts flash to Kiba, and she thinks that _maybe we could run forever and forever, even though I don't know you're face_-

But she feels like she has known him forever.

…–…

Eleven-thirty, and Hana is still being danced about the room. It is hot, and the candle-light and all the staring is starting to get to her.

But she, in true noble fashion, blooms in the light, even though her heart quakes and screams and _rushes_ her to _run away_ as fast as she can.

But she doesn't, and she smiles at the many other pairs of dancers on the floor. There are so many couples - a girl with red hair screaming at her partner, who simply laughed - a taller, older man with someone Hana vaguely recognizes as Kurenai - Anko? Is that Anko with someone with silver hair?

And they are all dancing. The twist, twirl, swirl of skirts and legs makes Hana dizzy until her partner pulls her outside.

…–…

Eleven-forty-five, and Hana is beginning to hate how slowly time moves when one wants it to just _go_.

She and he stand on the balcony together, sipping flutes of champagne in the glittery remnants of light and strains of laughter and music coming from inside.

It is quiet, and Hana smiles behind the laughing imp mask when his arm very gently slips around her waist.

She realizes with a morbid bit of humour that this is the most she has smiled in almost a week. She is with someone she is sure she has met before, but really, they are a mystery to her.

And she is feeling more alive then ever before.

…–…

Eleven-fifty, and Hana is so impatient, it hurts. She wills time to fly, fly free!

But it does not.

…–…

Eleven-fifty-nine, and Hana is breathless with anticipation. One more minutes; sixty seconds is all she has to wait.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-toc-

And then he pulls the mask off, and Hana has never seen a more beautiful face. Her fingers fumble with the silken ties on the still-laughing-imp mask, because, god, she wants to get it off more then she has ever wanted _anything_…

The leather inside of the mask clings to her face, cool and calm and protective- But she carefully peels it off anyways - because the imp does _so_ love to dance, to sing, to _be_ -, and she stares him in the face.

He really is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Hana…" he whispers, like he has known all night, like this is a normal occurrence, like- like- like he _loves_ her.

And then Hana stands on tiptoe (despite the heels), and very, very carefully kisses Uchiha Itachi on the mouth.

And she is in heaven.

…–…

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_fin_.


	9. Snow

Oh, I _like_ this thread. YAY!  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Dedication**: To everyone. XD Like, actually. And cookies for all of you!

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Hana thinks the world is sick, sometimes.

It is a sick world, where noble girls are expected to be simply play-things and pawns in the game of alliances and marriages that constantly plague the royal court. A world where secrets must be kept to protect people. A sick world.

It's not something she understands.

But it is winter, and there is snow outside, and Hana knows -wishes, really- that the court wasn't such a suffocating, fixed thing. If it wasn't, she would be out in the snow in a flash, dancing and playing in the trillions of flakes that currently line the ground.

Hana curls her knees up to her chest - she doesn't _care_ how unladylike it is; it is the most comfortable position in the world, and she will revel in it.

Kiba is getting married tomorrow.

It is strange - a winter wedding, that is. Hana remembers that Ino once said she wanted a summer wedding.

But Kiba has always loved the snow, and apparently, Ino wanted to make him happy.

Hana smiled, because really, they are such children, even still, even now. They are just children who play an adult's game, when they should really be playing outside in the snow.

They should be out in the snow, just like Hana wishes she could be. Instead, she turns her eyes to the inside of the room, and eyes her husband.

Itachi is spread-eagled on the bed, limbs tossed at odd, funny angles, and his eyes are closed in sleep. Hana almost giggles softly to herself; he looks very innocent, and Hana knows he is anything but.

It is a nice change, and she unfurls herself to walk over to him. She sits down on the bed next to him, and stares at the lines on his face. They are both tired, and both have ever lost the chance to be children.

It is impossible to be children in the middle of a war.

But Hana is happy now. She is married, and is currently the Lady of the House of Uchiha (Fugaku had retired, and had named Itachi be his successor, Lord Uchiha, under pressure from his wife. Mikoto had wanted to see the world before she died, and what Mikoto wanted, Mikoto got).

And it is quiet nights like this that Hana loves, when the snow is drifting down in heaps, and everything is a bright sparkle in the morning.

Yes, the world is sick, Hana thinks.

But it gets better, with a little love, a little trust, and a lot of duct tape.

Of course, even a year ago, those three things were in short supply, and Hana knows that had Naruto not married that sweet little Hyuuga girl, there _would_ have been a war. She also knows that if the Nara boy had not been sent as ambassador to Suna, there would have been more then 'war'.

There would have been _slaughter_, had Suna even _considered_ an alliance with Sound.

Hana purses her lips in disgust. Sound. What a distasteful place.

But they didn't, and she knows the Nara boy is very busy wooing Suna's eldest child, and current princess.

Hana smiles to herself, and traces her fingers along Itachi's cheeks. He is really a beautiful person, she thinks. Beautiful and dark and wonderful.

His eyes flicker open, and he stares at her. "Hana," he says, and she smiles again, this time at him.

"Good morning, sleepy head," she says as he sits up. He looks at her for a minute, in a dress made of midnight blue velvet, her hair loose and long around her face, and a smile on her lips.

He looks at her for a long, long time, and Hana wonders what he sees.

"Are you happy, Hana?"

She blinks at him, confused. Of course she is happy, how could she not be? "What do you mean?"

"Are you happy? With me?"

There is fear in his voice, and Hana wonders why. She knows for a fact that no one else in the world could ever handle her constant neurosis. She looks at him very carefully. "I smile when I'm with you, Itachi."

"Smiling doesn't mean you're happy."

"I only smile when I'm happy, Itachi."

"So you are, then? You're happy?"

Hana nods, and he pulls her into his arms. He lays back, and together, they lay on the bed, quietly, calmly.

"Kiba's wedding is tomorrow," Hana whispers into his ear.

Itachi nods, and she can feel the rumble in his chest when he says "I know. He'll be good for Ino, and she for him."

Hana nods into his chest. "I just want him to be… happy. As happy as we are."

Itachi looks at her, a slow smile on her lips. Her fingers are cold, he thinks, and pulls her a little closer. "Yes," he says. "As happy as we are."

And then he kisses her forehead, and closes his eyes.

Her voice shakes him from his almost-sleep. "Itachi… I want to play in the snow. Right now," she says. She shakes him to let him know that yes, she means it, and that no, he is not getting out of it.

She watches him simply pull himself from the bed, and offer her a hand. Joy explodes in her chest, and she knows that he loves her for her, not for who she should be.

As the walk out into the snow, she decides she'll tell him _her_ secret tomorrow. A summer baby, she thinks. It will be a late summer baby.

The world is still sick, but Hana laughs as snowflakes drop on her tongue, and she knows that even though it _is_ sick, it is slowly getting better.

…–…

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_fin_.


	10. Birth

ASGJKL. I GOT IT! Erika, this better damn well placate you for a long, _long_ time.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Dedication**: To Eleni and Erika, as always.  
**notes**: Every time I write these, they get happier… I need happiness in my life, right now.

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'_Time passes, seasons change… Young love turns to deep affection.'_

Isn't _that_ the truth, Hana thinks, and gently rubs her barely-swollen stomach. It is February, early in the month, and everything is still dead and cold. Winter has a sick grip on the world, and Hana is tired of it.

She wants _summer_; wants warmth, wants _sunshine_.

She smiles, because she thinks that in summer, the little being in her belly will finally become a child to be proud of.

Itachi is ecstatic when she tells him, Hana remembers. December. She told him in December, and he swung her around and around, the New Year's snow glittering around them in the darkness.

It is one of the rare times that he laughs (she laughs, too; laughs and laughs, as glittery and glitzy as the snow around them), and when he tells the family, they, too, are ecstatic.

Kiba, his arm around his new wife, boisterously congratulates them both. Hana remembers the wolfish grin her little brother gave the girl in his arms; she remembers the way Ino coloured high in her cheeks.

Hana also remembers the way Mikoto cackles, and immediately starts knitting little pink socks. Everyone else is wishing for a boy, but Hana secretly wants a girl (Itachi does too; he told her in the dead of night, once).

And maybe those secret wishes are fueling Hana's dreams; dreams where a little girl with long, shining black hair and big brown eyes laughs happily in mid-summer, wearing a pink dress, barefoot, and carrying a bundle of wildflowers.

Hana wishes stronger, and watches as winter looseness its grip on the land as February passes her by; spring is coming.

…–…

March is quiet, and Hana feels her belly swell on a daily basis. The leaves are coming out, and when the ice breaks on the nearby stream, Hana laughs out loud.

The tadpoles are out, and Hana inclined to watch them day after day, laying next to Itachi and staring in awe as the little almost-frogs swim about.

The world is coming alive, Hana along with it.

…–…

It is April, and the threat of war rears its ugly head. It always does, after the quiet winter lull.

As much as Hana dislikes the cold, she thinks that perhaps, if nothing else, winter is good for killing war.

If there is one thing Hana knows, it is that an army can not move during the cold months - this is the be-all and end-all of war. She did not study tactics for nothing, and Hana finds herself bored to tears without Itachi to talk to.

She sighs, and looks out at the finally-unfurling leaves on the cherry trees.

She is worried about her husband; he comes back to their bedchambers looking more and more haggard with every passing day, and Hana feels that she sees him less and less.

When she tells him this, he just pulls her into his arms, and whispers that he is _sorry, so sorry, and god, I can't _fix_ it, Hana, and I should be able to but I _can't_-_

She hushes him, and they hold each other close while the world falls to pieces around them.

…–…

May comes, and the threat of war passes, much as the death grip of winter did.

Hana smoothes the maternity dress she has begun to wear; the clothes she normally wears are simply too restricting now. The child inside of her squirms; and Hana wonders whether it will be a boy or a girl.

The court still hopes for a boy, but Mikoto continues to knit pink booties.

Hana smiles to herself, and has a feeling that Mikoto may be right.

Itachi can not seem to get enough of running his fingers over her stomach, and she does not deny him it. It is a source of joy for them both.

But Itachi is still Lord Uchiha, and he still has duties to attend to.

So Hana spends many of her days sitting in the garden with her mother, her mother-in-law, and her sister-in-law. They laugh, sing and play together, and Hana is sure that this is right.

She knows her children will grow up happy and safe, and, really, perfectly stubborn, given that both of this little girl's (Hana has taken to calling the child a girl; why, she does not know) grandmothers are entirely insane.

Ino laughs, too, and shares the same pink-ness that Hana had in her cheeks.

Hana smiles and smiles, and thinks that perhaps, she is not the only one with child.

…–…

June is hot and humid, and Hana is irritable. She can not help but snap at everyone and everything, and when she finally _does_ snap, she needs to be alone, to cool off.

She hides in a remote corner of the garden when this happens (most recently was with one of the maids; the poor girls looked entirely traumatized), and she knows that only Itachi will be able to find her.

He does, and he allows her to complain and complain. She rants and rants and _I am _fat_, my favourite clothes don't _fit_, I eat too much-_

But Itachi is smiling softly. He kisses her gently, his lips soft against hers. Hana melts against him, and forgets that anything bad had happened in the first place.

She forgets anything other then the fact that the world is right with itself.

…–…

July is a boring month, Hana reflects.

The doctor has ordered bed rest, but Hana does not _want_ bed rest. And so, during the day, when Itachi is off converging with the other Lords about boring matters, Hana will sneak out, and visit the children who live in the nearest village.

They are dirty children, but then, all children get dirty in the summer. They are not very ragged, and not at all thin, and Hana thinks that the world is getting better and better. Time is kind, for once.

The children are careful with her, careful with the baby growing inside her. The know she is Lady Uchiha - know it in their heads, but -

But she's wearing a cotton sundress the colour of the sun, warm and yellow and happy, her braid long and thick and simple down her back.

So to the children, she's simply someone who's willing to play with them. She tells the stories of knights and princesses that keep them occupied for hours, and in return, they braid flowers in her hair and treat her like one of their own.

Itachi does not tell her that he watches her all afternoon, laughing with the children.

But quietly, to himself, he thinks that she will be a good mother.

…–…

August comes, and with it, a slight cooling of the air. The sun gets lower in the sky.

And a baby is born.

The court is disappointed. Mikoto cackles, and points out that she was right _all along_ (and then she points out how she is _always_ right, so why do they even question her, anymore?). The little girl has black hair, and brown eyes, and Hana feels her winter dreams coming true.

Hana names the baby girl Natsuki. Summer hope, that is what this baby is, and she represents everything Hana has ever wanted.

She catches Ino staring longingly at the little girl; the blonde hands rest on her own swollen stomach, and Hana thinks, with a smile, that Ino has another month. Maybe two.

She refrains from telling her younger counterpart about how much birth actually _hurts_; no need to destroy the girl's illusions yet.

Natsuki's eyes open and close, and Hana gently rocks her daughter to sleep.

That night, Hana lays curled next to Itachi, a quiet Natsuki between them. She stares into her husband's dark eyes, and thinks that perhaps heaven is much closer then anyone ever thought was possible.

…–…

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_fin_.  
**notes2**: i really like this. huh.


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